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296
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
"You know those SS probes?" Fred asked. "They're almost
solid Titanium-A."
The Master Chief checked his team's biosigns: erratic but still
within normal operational parameters. Grace's heart skipped a
beat or two, but then returned to a normal strong rhythm. No
broken bones or signs of internal bleeding yet, either. It was also a
good sign that Blue Team were reasonably calm about their dire
situation. The Chief knew it was all they could do until they
cleared the Slipspace field generated by Ascendant Justice.
He ran a diagnostic on his MJOLNIR shields. They still re-
charged faster than they were drained by the ambient radiation
that stormed invisibly around them. He wished the real Cortana
were with him. She would have said something to distract him.
"Status?" John asked.
Four blue acknowledgment lights winked on, and four Spar-
tans gave him thumbs-up signals.
Fred chimed in, "This isn't so bad. The last insertion I made,
we hit the ground before the dropship. Now, that was a rough
ride. We were—"
The dropship lurched violently and cut off Fred's story.
Cracks appeared along the armor welded to the port wall.
Molten lead oozed from the rupture.
Despite the hydrostatic gel and the padding, a jolt slammed
the Master Chief's head against the front of his helmet with
force enough to make black stars explode in his eyes. Another
jolt slammed his head into the back of his helmet. The inside of
the dropship went entirely dark.
"Chief? Chief?" Cortana's voice whispered through his hel-
met speaker. "Chief, respond please."
John's vision came into focus. His biosigns sluggishly pulsed
on his heads-up display. Beyond the display, it was completely
dark. He activated his external lights and pointed his head along
the interior of the dropship.
His Spartans hung limp in their harnesses. Aside from spheres
of lead that had melted under the hull armor, resolidified, and
now floated like champagne bubbles in the interior of the vessel,
there was no other discernible motion.
"We made it?"